Naughty Nelle

by L'Amour, Nelle

  “Yo, Jane, where were you during group? We missed you.”

  “None of your business.”

  “Well, you missed a good session. My matey Rump finally remembered something about the queen he extorted. They’re going to let him out of this joint any day.”

  Rump’s getting out too? A new wave of depression washes over me.

  I push past the swine and take a seat at a table by myself. I’m not up for any conversation, especially with any of these nutcases.

  Half-way through my meal, the boy with the parsnip nose sits down next to me. Pinocchio. What does he want?

  He stares at me with his sad puppy eyes. “I want to tell you that you’re beautiful.”

  To my astonishment, his nose shrinks. He must be telling the truth!

  “Jane, come with me outside for a walk. Please?”

  I cannot say no to those eyes.

  Quietly, we slip away.

  The warm summer air is calming as we walk in silence through The Enchanted Forest. Moonlight beams between the trees. With Pinocchio by my side, I’m not afraid.

  “Pinocchio, is there something you want to tell me?” I say at last.

  “Jane, a blue fairy made me a boy,” he says.

  “With her magic wand?” I can’t help laughing.

  “Yes. Now, I need a real woman to make me a man.”

  He gazes at me with his puppy-brown eyes. They make me think again of my little stray Bambi. Of how much he needed me.

  Slowly, the beautiful boy-man undresses me. I do not flinch. Only my breasts quiver against the summer breeze.

  He stares at me. The scars left behind by my mother’s beatings shimmer in the moonlight. No one has ever seen them, not even my precious mirror.

  Pinocchio’s eyes do not move; it’s as if he’s looking right through me. “You’ve suffered, Jane. That’s why I knew I could trust you.”

  He peels off his clothes and stands naked before me. His body, though slight, is as beautifully sculpted as his face. The full moon illuminates his nascent muscles and smooth porcelain skin. It’s the body of a boy ready to be born into manhood.

  He clasps my hands and pulls me closer. His mouth moves toward mine. I can taste his warm breath.

  Suddenly, his nose grows. At least six inches, maybe more! He jumps back and glances down at the flesh between his legs, ashamed.

  “Jane, I can’t.”

  Silently, I watch his nose shrink to half its size.

  He begins to weep.

  I wrap my arms around him and caress his silky chestnut hair. The connection between us is powerful, almost magical. Seeing ourselves for who we really are, we’ve become each other’s mirror.

  “We should go back,” he says.

  “No, stay here with me,” I say softly. I cannot go back to the loneliness of my empty room. At least, not tonight. I want to be with him.

  Together, we lie down side by side on the warm earth. I stare at the starry sky and silently curse the full moon for not being there to help me with my escape.

  “Jane, I never had a mother,” Pinocchio whispers.

  Lucky you.

  “But if I had, I wish she could have been you.”

  A tear travels down my cheek. Our souls belong together.

  “You know, Jane, the Blue Fairy once told me that when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. Let’s each pick a star and make a wish for one another.”

  I take his hand in mine. Neither of us says another word. Under the watchful gaze of the stars and moon, two lost souls, who have saved each other, fall fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 17

  At breakfast, I gather berries with Pinocchio. We speak only through our eyes. Something inside each of us has changed. We’re happier, freer, wiser. I’m not even filled with dread when I report to my session with Shrink.

  “So, Jane, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday,” Shrink says as she whizzes into her office.

  Her entry takes me by surprise. Reclining on the chaise, I’ve been lost in thought about my night with Pinocchio. That’s something she’s never going to know about, though a part of me wants to tell her everything.

  She zooms in close to me. “I reread your story. It ends rather abruptly. And there’s quite a big gap in time. The little girl stops dancing, then she’s all grown up and marries a king. What happened in between?”

  My chest tightens. Reliving my past is no easier today. “My mother went out with a lot of men.”

  “What kind of men?”

  “Creeps. All of them. Even the rich ones.”

  “What made them creeps?”

  “They drank. Cursed. And stunk.” I scrunch my nose, still smelling the stench they left behind. A combination of stale beer, sweat, and semen.

  “Did they ever—”

  I cut her off. I know where she’s going. “No! My mother didn’t want me around. She kept me locked in a closet.”

  “Was she jealous of you? Like how you were jealous of Snow White.”

  I shudder. I never thought about my mother being jealous of me. Maybe it’s true. Like mother like daughter?

  Hovering close to me at eye level, Shrink looks at me with intimidating intensity.

  “Jane, I’m going to ask you a question, and I don’t want you to interrupt. Did any of your mother’s suitors ever touch you?”

  The blood inside me rushes to my head. I feel like I’m going to implode. I can no longer keep it in.

  “Snow White’s father came into my bed!”

  If Shrink is shocked, she does not show it.

  Tears flood my eyes as I relive the event that changed my life forever. “My mother had finally seduced a King. A widower with a young daughter. She was set to marry him.”

  Shrink jumps in. “How did you feel about that?”

  “I was excited about living in a big castle. And having a little sister. And now that my mother had gotten what she wanted, I was sure she would stop beating me—”

  “And love you?”

  Silence. How does she know?

  “What happened?”

  “We spent the night before the wedding at my castle. I mean, his.”

  “You lured the King?”

  Her hurtful question jolts me upright.

  “No! Never! He was drunk and forced himself on me.”

  My tears cannot blur the memory of his lustful assault. Hard. Harder. Heartless.

  “Go on,” says Shrink, her voice still showing no emotion.

  I find myself talking in present tense, the words crawling out like shell-shocked warriors.

  “Suddenly, the chamber door slams open and a voice screams out, ‘How dare you wreck my life, you rotten little witch!’ My mother! Her bulging eyes fixate on me like a cobra ready to strike. The King rolls off me and—”

  Crack! The sound explodes in my head. A razor-sharp pain rips across my chest. And then another loud crack, this one more agonizing. I clench the worn arms of the chaise, my body writhing.

  “Jane, tell me, what’s going on?” Shrink’s voice cuts through the memory and pain.

  “My mother…she’s whipping me with The King’s thick leather belt, the one he tore off his robe and flung to the floor. With every strike she hisses, ‘Witch! Witch! Witch!’”

  Shrink lets me take a long pause, then asks, “What did The King do when your mother attacked you?”

  The scene unfolds in my head as I recount the nightmarish events that follow. “The King, regaining his senses, struggles to wrestle the belt away from my mother. Then a tiny porcelain figure, lit up by moonlight, runs into the room and cries out, “Papa! Papa!” Snow White. The King’s precious three-year old daughter. To my horror, my mother swings the belt at her. Crack! The helpless child cries out in pain. The King, horrified, lunges at my mother to try and stop her, only to be whipped by her himself. Snow White wails louder, and I run to her side. To protect her. My mother charges toward me, wielding the belt. Prepared for the worst, I huddle over Snow White. But just at that
moment, a large man bursts into the room and takes the blow for me. Saving me. His eyes meet mine, and I recognize him immediately. He’s the bearded man with the knife I encountered in the forest not long ago.”

  “Who was this man?” asks Shrink.

  “The King’s Huntsman.” I do not tell her about our previous encounter.

  “The same Huntsman you sent to kill Snow White?”

  I nod weakly.

  “Jane, are you okay?”

  The madness of that night swells in my head. I press my fingers against my pounding temples and muster the strength to continue. The scene plays on despite how much I wish I could pull the curtains on it.

  “The Huntsman, undeterred by my mother’s wrath, pounces on her, knocking her to the floor. ‘Take her away,’ commands The King, holding the still sobbing Snow White in his arms. The Huntsman yanks my mother to her feet, gripping her by both arms. The enraged King confronts her: ‘If I ever see you again, I shall destroy you!’”

  Shrink gets in a question. “How did your mother react?”

  I close my eyes and knead the back of my neck. The memory of my mother fighting The Huntsman as he hauls her out of the castle fills my head. Kicking. Clawing. Howling. Foaming. She’s become a monster.

  “She says one day we’ll all be sorry,” I say, reopening my eyes.

  I’ll never forget the venomous look in her eyes as she hissed those words. Never.

  “Did you ever see her again?” asks Shrink.

  I shake my head. I was happy she was out of my life.

  Shrink heaves a sigh. “I must admit it’s quite a page-turner of a story. What happened next?”

  My sobbing subsides a little, and I switch over to past tense. “I married The King.”

  “Why?” asks Shrink, a hint of surprise in her voice.

  “I had no choice. I was carrying his child.”

  “His second child,” notes Shrink. “What happened to the child?”

  Sadness sweeps over me as I remember the pain, the blood…so much blood. “It was a very difficult birth. I survived, but the baby, he died.”

  I sob heavily again, burying my soaked face in my hands. My poor little baby! I held him for only a minute. But I’ll never forget the touch of his dewy skin or his silky curls. Or the heartbreaking expression on his tiny face that cried out for life, not death, as the midwife pulled him away.

  I don’t know long I’ve been crying when Shrink’s voice sounds in my head. “So, Jane, you lost The King’s son. His only heir. How did he feel?”

  I raise my head slowly, remembering how much I wanted The King to hold and comfort me. Instead, he ranted, blaming me for the infant’s death. And then he punished me.

  “He banned me from his bed.” My voice is hoarse from crying.

  “That’s a lot for a young woman to handle. The loss of a child and spousal abandonment. Plus the trauma of your mother. How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.” So long ago yet now it feels like only yesterday.

  “You were practically a child yourself,” Shrink says with a gentle flutter of her wings. “How did you feel?”

  “I felt nothing.” Sadness had numbed my heart.

  “What happened to The King’s other child, Snow White?”

  “She grew more and more beautiful every day. The King doted on her.”

  “But he didn’t dote on you, his wife.” She’s getting tough with me again. “How did you feel about that?”

  “I was jealous. I thought The King loved her more because she was more beautiful than me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I was alone most of the time. I spent hours standing in front of my mirror—”

  Shrink interrupts me. “What mirror?”

  “My mother’s. She had ordered The King’s men to move it from our flat to the castle.”

  “Ah, the mirror from your childhood. Remember, Jane, there was nothing magic about it.”

  My stomach muscles clench at her words. I still don’t believe her. I go on, taking precaution to make her think I do. I so badly want out of this place.

  “Every day, I stood before it, making myself as beautiful as possible, until I believed I was the fairest of all. The King still paid no attention to me. The more he ignored me, the more time I spent with my mirror.”

  Shrink nods. “Of course. The more he ignored you, the more you felt unloved. Continue.”

  While I’m sure I’ve fooled her, her words make my blood run cold. I take a deep breath before going on. “The King went off to war and left me in charge of Snow White.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “At first, I resented it. Then I saw an opportunity to bring her down. So I dressed her in rags and treated her like a servant.”

  “Understandable. You modeled your parenting after your mother’s.”

  Like mother like daughter. An image of Snow White on her hands and knees scrubbing floors flashes into my head. Singing no less! No matter how poorly I treated her, her beauty remained intact. In fact, with every passing day, her beauty was more evident. I was nervous that my little plan was backfiring.

  “And tell me, what was going on between you and your mirror?” asks Shrink, interrupting my thoughts.

  “My mirror continued to assure me that I was still the fairest of all.” I pause. “Then it gave me a scare.”

  “How so?” asks Shrink sharply.

  “On the day Snow White turned seven, it told me she would one day be fairer than me.”

  “Correction.” Scowling, Shrink adjusts her spectacles. “Your mirror didn’t say a word. You were merely facing reality.”

  “Right.” I nod like one of those bobblehead toys. Why can’t I believe that my mirror wasn’t magic?

  Shrink gives me a fleeting smile. “How did you feel when you realized that Snow White could possibly be more attractive than you?”

  “I panicked. I worked her harder. Fed her practically nothing.”

  “You wanted her out of your life.”

  I say nothing.

  “Just like how your mother wanted you out of her life.”

  “No! It’s not like that!” I shout back.

  “I don’t understand, Jane. Explain to me what you mean.”

  “I thought that if I could starve or work her to death, The King would finally love me.”

  “In other words, Jane, you were still searching for love. Desperate for it, in fact.”

  I’m so confused. How did this suddenly get back to love?

  “What happened to The King?” asks Shrink.

  “He died in battle.”

  “How did you feel?”

  “On one hand, I was glad he was dead because he didn’t love me. On the other, I regretted I never had the chance to make him love me.”

  “How did Snow White react?”

  “She cried a lot. She missed her father terribly.”

  “How did that make you feel, Jane?”

  “It made me hate her more.” More than anyone or anything.

  “Why, Jane? The King was dead. It no longer mattered.”

  “She wrecked my life!”

  Like how you thought you wrecked your mothers?”

  Shrink’s question brings on another round of tears. I’m unbearably sad and perplexed. What if I’d never slept with The King? What if he had married my mother instead of me? What if I had never talked to my mirror? The what-ifs pile up like dirt, burying me alive. Would things have turned out a lot differently?

  Shrink’s voice cuts through the madness. “Jane, listen, to me. You didn’t wreck your mother’s life. She wrecked it herself.”

  “I just wanted her to love me!” I cry out, from somewhere deep inside my soul.

  “Your mother was sick. She was incapable of loving you.”

  Shrink’s words swirl around in my head. They do little to console me. No matter what I did, I could never own a place in my mother’s heart. My chest heaves in pain as I cry uncontrollably.

  S
hrink gently brushes away my tears. “Jane, you have to move beyond your past and come face-to-face with the person you’ve become. But not in a mirror.”

  The chime sounds. My sobs drown it out.

  “Time’s up, Jane. I’ll see you here tomorrow.” Like a flash of light, Shrink disappears.

  Unable to move, I realize my vanity had blinded me. It wasn’t Snow White’s beauty I envied. It was her knowledge. She knew what love was.

  I’m practically a zombie as I do lunch set-up with Winnie. She, in contrast, is like a wind-up toy.

  “Jane, I won’t be in group today,” she says cheerfully.

  “How come?” I should feel a pang of jealousy, but I’m too worn out from my session with Shrink to feel anything.

  “I’ll tell you later. I have a meeting with Shrink.”

  She’s skipping a meal to see Shrink? I don’t get it. On second thought, maybe that’s how she’s been losing weight.

  “Who would like to share today?” begins Grimm.

  “I would,” says Pinocchio.

  My heart skips a beat. Oh no! He’s going to tell everyone about last night!

  He stands up. “I’m gay,” he announces.

  Hook leaps up. “I’m not sitting next to some fag!”

  Rage races through my bloodstream. “He’s a person! If you had half the heart he had, I’d find you appealing.”

  Hook snarls. “So, that’s it, Jane. You like your men to be pretty boys.”

  “Sit down, Hook!” orders Grimm.

  Hook reluctantly lowers himself to his chair, sitting as far away as possible from Pinocchio.

  I gaze at the beautiful boy-man. His nose has returned to normal size. It’s exquisite. As if someone sculpted it to perfection.

  “Thank you for sharing, Pinocchio,” says Grimm, looking pleased. “Now that you’ve come out with the truth of who you are, you no longer have to live a life of lies.”

  Pinocchio’s eyes connect with mine. We exchange a smile, knowing we’ll always have our unspoken moment of truth.

  Grimm’s eyes rotate around the group, stopping on each of us. “We all hide behind protective screens. Each of you must come forward—like Pinocchio bravely just did—and face the reality of who you really are.”